


Broken (But Not Beyond Repair)

by heelnev



Series: Jess Has Too Many Fics In Her Notes [1]
Category: All Elite Wrestling, Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Making Up, Valentine's Day, au where nev still lives in orlando and also has a big fucking dog, i guess, its more mentioned than anything else tbh, mustafa worries a lot, sorta but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22724860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heelnev/pseuds/heelnev
Summary: By all means, Mustafa shouldn't have even been thinking about Neville anymore. It had been over two years since he left WWE, and they were both at completely different points in their careers. It was pointless to dwell on the past or give any real thought to what could have been — all that mattered anymore was what the future held, and it looked like their respective paths were headed in opposite directions.And yet, despite all of this, there Mustafa was. Seated in his rental car, in the parking lot of some cheap motel he had planned to spend the night at. Neville's number dialed on his phone.
Relationships: Mustafa Ali/Pac | Adrian Neville
Series: Jess Has Too Many Fics In Her Notes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1563322
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Broken (But Not Beyond Repair)

**Author's Note:**

> yknow its very bold of me to refer to this as my "valentine's fic" despite the fact that valentine's day itself is really just briefly mentioned once in the whole story. but in other news shout out to me for using a dear hunter lyric for this fic title, i wanted to do it but couldnt figure out which one to go with. im proud of myself. anyways Enjoy

By all means, Mustafa shouldn't have even been thinking about Neville anymore. It had been over two years since he left WWE, and they were both at completely different points in their careers. It was pointless to dwell on the past or give any real thought to what could have been — all that mattered anymore was what the future held, and it looked like their respective paths were headed in opposite directions.

And yet, despite all of this, there Mustafa was. Seated in his rental car, in the parking lot of some cheap motel he had planned to spend the night at. Neville's number dialed on his phone.

Mustafa stared down at the screen, squinting against the bright light. The rain rhythmically tapping against the roof of the car left him in almost a trance-like state as he debated whether or not to hit the "call" button. This wasn't the first time he found himself in this position — he was tempted to get in touch with Neville just about every time he and the rest of the WWE crew passed through Orlando during live event tours. He would usually only get as far as his contacts list, however, and he was never actually able to bring himself to make that move. Once he learned that the latest show would see him in the area again, he assumed that things would play out as they normally did, with him backing out at the last second and pretending like he had zero interest in seeing Neville.

But that didn't happen. This time, the urge to get in contact was so _strong_ , far more than it ever had been. To the point where Mustafa was in the car and fully prepared to drive right over to Neville’s house. He had no idea what exactly it was, but he had arrived in town with an almost overwhelming feeling to just bite the bullet and do it. A sense that he needed to stop putting off something that was killing him not to do. He wasn't even sure where it came from, but it was certainly there — a feeling that he _needed_ to reach out, to call, to talk to Neville again after so long of little to no contact.

To possibly rekindle a relationship that had meant so much to him.

To put it bluntly, Mustafa and Neville's relationship was, at its core, supposed to be just sex. Nothing more than that. "No strings attached", they always insisted. Once a week ( _maybe_ twice, if they were feeling up to it), they would meet up in a hotel room to fool around, to blow off steam after a show. After Raw, after 205 — they weren't picky. Whenever they were both in the same place and could meet up, they spent the night together. It was nothing more than that, at least at first.

But then, it... changed. It had been gradual — Mustafa hadn't even noticed it right away — but the times they shared started to become something else. Before all they had done was meet up, do what they had to do, and then go their separate ways before anyone knew what they were doing. They did their best to make sure that no one even had a _suspicion_ that there was anything going on between the two of them, hence why Mustafa would always go back to his hotel room after they finished. Whoever he was rooming with normally didn't ask too many questions so long as he was back from his "late night walk" ( _horrible_ excuse, but it worked) at a reasonable time.

Then Mustafa started to actually stay the night with Neville. The first time he had simply been too tired and lazy to leave. The second time had followed a very similar format, only Neville didn't put up as much of a fight. Every time it happened thereafter, Neville cared less and less, and before either of them knew it it had become an established part of their routine, their desire not to clue anyone in on their secret be damned.

And _then_ came the invites to each other's houses. It had started as a way to save money whenever tapings were in Chicago or Orlando, but before long they had becomed planned affairs, with one spending anywhere from a day to a whole weekend at the other's home. They acted like this was so they could hook up easier (and more frequently), but the fact was that those nights were... _fun_ . More fun than they thought they would be. It wasn't just sex anymore — they were cooking together, and buying _way_ too many snacks together, and eating those same snacks as they binged the dumbest fucking movies together. (Stupid Movie Fridays, they'd taken to calling them, though they weren't opposed to other days of the week being devoted to corny films.)

They were... getting closer. Close enough that Mustafa wasn't sure if they should be labeled as acquaintances, or as friends, or as... something even more than that.

Whatever the hell they were, it all came to a screeching halt in October of 2017, when Neville left the company and didn’t look back.

Mustafa still texted him after everything happened, but it was clear that things weren't how they used to be. Neville was distracted, so caught up in the drama of requesting his release that he didn't seem to have time to talk with him anymore. It wasn't like Mustafa didn't understand — though he'd never been through the process himself, he could only imagine how stressful it must be, especially given the specifics of Neville's situation. Not to mention that his own career picked up notably only a few short months later, and he hadn't done much better on the consistent communication front. This was far from being a one-sided issue.

What had gotten to Mustafa the most, though, was how abrupt it all was. How one moment the two of them were talking, and laughing, and genuinely enjoying one another's company more than they _ever_ thought they would, only for all of it to suddenly stop. How they used to text each other the most ridiculous and pointless shit, only for their messaging to slowly taper off until it ceased altogether.

As of that moment, in February of 2020, contact between them was nonexistent. Like they were total strangers.

Mustafa wanted so badly to change that.

His thumb was hovering precariously over the "call" button. It was such a simple thing to do, but he was still having so much trouble with it. If he did that, then Neville would pick up, and then two of them would be talking again for the first time in years. He would get what he wanted. It was so easy, so _doable_.

Even so, he was hesitant. There was no guarantee that Neville would pick up to begin with. It was possible that he would see who was calling him and immediately reject the call, or let it ring and ring until Mustafa eventually gave up and left him alone. Worse yet, he might have deleted Mustafa's number, and he would hit him with a dreaded "Who is this?" the moment he answered. Each of those situations sent a chill down his spine, and it made him want to turn off his phone and forget about this plan like he always did.

But Mustafa couldn't let those worst-case scenarios get to him. Not anymore. He needed to do it, and he needed to do it right then and there. Otherwise, it would likely never happen.

With that, he made the call.

Bringing the phone up to his ear, Mustafa chewed on his lower lip. He listened to the rings, first one, then two. His heart was pounding in his chest by the time the fifth ring rolled around. A little voice was yelling at him from the back of his mind, telling him that he'd made a huge mistake and should just hang up the phone already. It was clear that Neville didn't want to talk to him — if he did, he would've picked up. It was only a matter of time before he got sent to voicemail and was forced to either hang up or leave some embarrassing message for Neville to delete—

"Ali?"

"Oh—" Mustafa's whole body tensed at the sound of Neville's voice coming from the receiver. He'd actually picked up — _shit, shit, **shit**_ . He scrambled for something to say, _anything_. "...Hiya."

 _Real smooth, dumbass_ . "Hello..." Neville responded tentatively. _God_ , it had been way too long since Mustafa last heard him. He probably would have enjoyed the moment more if he didn't just make a complete fool out of himself.

"What, ah...” _Just say something!_ “What're you up to?"

"I'm... at home." Neville still sounded wary. Mustafa couldn’t exactly blame him.

"You had a match this week, right?" Mustafa remembered seeing tweets about it on his timeline. Reading that Neville had won had put him in quite the good mood for the rest of the night.

"I did."

"Good for you." Mustafa nodded. “Makin’ moves.”

Then, the line fell silent, and Mustafa had no choice but to come to terms with the fact that he did _not_ plan this well — or at all, really. All those nights of internal arguments and wondering about how a potential phone call between him and Neville would play out ultimately failed him. He had _no_ idea what to say next, or how to get to the point without making himself look like an even bigger idiot.

Fortunately for him, Neville was the one who eventually broke the silence. "Ali, what's going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do I— Are you kidding? You just called me out of absolutely nowhere. Why?"

“...Oh, that.” What _else_ would he be talking about?!

“Yeah, _that_.” The tone left Neville’s voice and, quieter, he added, “Is everything alright?"

Mustafa swallowed. There, that was his opening. "Everything's fine, it's just..." He paused. "I... WWE's in Orlando this weekend.”

Neville was silent for a beat. "...Is that so?"

"Mhm. I just got to my motel a little while ago. Haven't even gotten out of the car yet, though, because of this rain." Taking a deep breath through his nose, he said, "I... was thinking about you. Wanted to know how things were."

“I see...” The line went quiet again, the only sound being that of Neville’s breathing and the rain, which seemed to have only gotten worse in the time they were talking. Mustafa was dreading eventually having to get out of the car.

“I-I know it’s sudden,” Mustafa explained, an attempt to save himself from this awkward situation. “And that you probably didn’t expect to hear from me.”

“I _definitely_ didn’t.”

“Yeah... But I just wanted to check up on you. Make sure things were good.”

“They’re... They’re fine, thank you.” After a beat, “And you?”

“Same here.” Mustafa looked out the raindrop-speckled window. “I’m tired as hell, but... Still, it’s all good.”

This conversation needed to end. It was going nowhere, and Mustafa knew this. Hearing from Neville again was great, but all he was doing was embarrassing himself. Clearing his throat, he said, “Well... I guess I should be going. Still gotta get my room.”

“You haven’t even got one yet?” Neville asked. “What do you plan on doing if there isn’t one available?”

“I’ve slept in enough cars during my career to be okay with it. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t remember ever saying I was worried.”

Mustafa snorted. “You haven’t changed a bit, you know that?”

“At least I’m consistent.”

“That, you are...” Mustafa licked his lips. “I’ll... talk to you later, maybe, okay?”

“Alright...”

Mustafa sighed softly. _Here’s to hoping I’ll actually have the balls to call him again after this._ He thought to himself as he brought the phone away from his ear. Considering how long it had taken him to initiate this five minute chat, it would probably take him an eternity to do it all a second time.

He was just about to hang up when he heard Neville say, “Wait!”

The phone was back to Mustafa’s ear in a flash. “Yes?”

Neville seemed to hesitate for a moment, but he asked, "If it’s not too far from your motel, do you... want to come over for a bit? Just until this storm lets up."

Mustafa’s eyes widened. “U-Uh...” He stammered, very much caught off guard. He had wanted to go to Neville’s house earlier, but he didn’t expect him to straight up _invite him_ , completely unprovoked.

“If it’s too much trouble, then don’t worry about it,” Neville backtracked. “I know the weather is messy—“

“No it’s not,” Mustafa cut him off. “I mean, yes, it is, but I can still drive in it."

"Are you sure? I don't want you to get hurt."

"I won't. You know I'm a good driver."

"I know you're a _slow_ driver."

"Close enough. I’ll... I’ll be over in a little bit.”

He heard Neville breathe out (in relief?) “Alright. You, uh, still know the way?”

“Yeah, I do.” Mustafa could never forget.

* * *

The one benefit to the rain being so heavy was that the roads were mostly clear. The few cars that were out at that hour were driven by people getting home late from work and lovesick idiots like Mustafa. He had to be careful, of course, since an accident was the absolute last thing he wanted at that moment (and always, really), but he maintained a decent speed as he went down familiar streets and made familiar turns, ones that he hadn't made in ages. All so that he could see Neville in-person again.

What would the two of them even _do_ ? That question was bouncing around inside of Mustafa’s head the whole time he was driving. He... _highly_ doubted that they would hook up, given the amount of time they had been apart. It was unlikely that they would so easily fall back into their old pattern. Chances were they would spend more time catching up (or sitting in uncomfortable silence) than anything else. He wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that — happy? Disappointed? An odd combination of both?

No matter how he might have felt, it was definitely happening. And before Mustafa knew it, he was pulling up to the front of Neville’s home, parking in what had been his usual spot only two years ago.

Mustafa shut the car off. Staring up at the house, he realized that it was no different than it had been the last time he visited. Very... ordinary. There weren’t any decorations up, despite Valentine's Day being just around the corner. He wasn’t quite sure what he expected, really — Neville had never been all that into decorating. Thought it was all a scam and a waste of time, even though it made his home stick out like a sore thumb during the holidays. Just as he’d said on the phone during their chat, he was as consistent as ever. The familiarity was... comforting.

Bracing himself for the weather, Mustafa stepped out into the rain, taking a moment to lock the car before hustling up to the front porch. His heart was thumping as he climbed up the steps. _Come on, you can do this, don’t chicken out now._ All the worst-case scenarios were starting to creep their way back into his mind, telling him that this visit was pointless. That they were far too different now, and getting together again even for a little while would only make things worse somehow. Mustafa stared intently down the doorbell, as if it were challenging him with its faint glow, and he pressed it before he could talk himself out of it. Screw that pessimism — he was already there. If talking to each other was bad, then running away when he was expected was even worse.

And, truthfully, leaving unnoticed at that point was impossible. The door was opened only a moment after he'd rung the bell, like Neville had been standing there waiting for him on the other side, and just like that Mustafa was once again faced with the man who he’d spent countless nights with only a few years ago. A soft, shy smile spread across Mustafa’s face. “...Hey, Nev.”

“Hi...” Neville’s expression mirrored his — his smile was still stunning. “It’s... certainly been awhile, hasn't it?”

“Sure has.” Mustafa’s hands were shoved deep in his pockets. _Too long._ Mustafa wasn't sure if he should say this last thought aloud or not.

“Well, don’t just stand there — it’s pouring.” Neville stepped aside. The rumble of thunder off in the distance did an equally good job of reminding Mustafa of the bad weather, and he nodded, making sure to wipe his feet as best as he could on the mat before he walked inside. "Just put your shoes with the rest of mine."

"Got it." Some of Neville's shoes were lined up against the opposite wall, surprisingly neat. This alone made it clear that Neville had managed to do (or, _scrambled_ to do) some last minute cleaning before he showed up. They were usually a mess, one that Mustafa teased him about almost every visit. He couldn't say anything this time, however, and instead he went about slipping his own pair off.

Then, a large black shape came charging at him from the end of the hallway.

“Winston!!” Mustafa grinned, and he crouched down, scratching the bullmastiff on his head once he stopped in front of him. The dog responded by licking his face, and Mustafa laughed. “I missed you!”

“Looks like he missed you, too,” Neville mused from behind him, and Mustafa heard him close the door.

“It’s been way too long, boy-o!” Another rub to the head. Winston's tail was like a propeller, wagging rapidly. A paw came to rest on Mustafa's arm, and he faltered a little. "Hey, don't knock me over now."

"I don't mean to interrupt this tender reunion, but can I get you something to drink? Water, maybe?"

Mustafa looked up to Neville, Winston licking his hands now in an attempt to regain his attention. "That'd be good, thanks."

Neville gave him a nod and made his way towards the kitchen. Winston turned and followed him right away, which caused Mustafa's eyebrows to raise. "Wait, where're you goin'? I thought you wanted me to pet you!"

"He sees me going to the kitchen, he follows," Neville yelled back. "Seems to think me being in here automatically means he'll get a treat."

"Doesn't it?"

A pause. "...Well, yeah, but..." Neville trailed off, and Mustafa couldn't help but chuckle and roll his eyes. _Who could've guessed the "Bastard" would be such a pushover?_

Now alone in the hallway, Mustafa took a quick look around, noting some of the pictures on the wall. He wanted to say it was an evenly distributed assortment of photos, shots of family and the dog alike, but it was clear that there were _just_ a few more of Winston than anything else. Neville's love for him seemed to have grown tenfold in the time he and Mustafa had been apart. Mustafa couldn't help but wish that he had a pet of his own. Winston had filled that role for awhile, but... well, it was hard for him to actually bond with an animal when he wasn't even speaking to its owner.

Mustafa decided to head into the living room then, and he sat down on the couch, shifting in the plush seat as he waited for Neville (and Winston, hopefully) to come back. The rain was still pattering away against the window, and Mustafa silently hoped that it would let up before the end of the night. Having to go back out into such a downpour and drive all the way to his motel — the same one he still didn't have a room at, now that he thought about it — would _not_ be fun. The more he put it off, the more likely it seemed he would be spending that damp night in the backseat of his rental...

Mustafa shook his head and tried to get rid of the thought. He would worry about that later, after he did... whatever it was that he planned on doing with Neville. He still hadn't figured that out.

Sitting there and looking around the room, it was all so... _familiar_ to Mustafa, just as so many other things were. Everything that had happened since he arrived at the house had been apart of his and Neville's routine — the old one, from before everything changed. It was all the same, from Winston greeting him at the front door to the drink offer. There was even some Netflix movie paused on the TV. Mustafa admittedly didn't recognize the name of it, but if he knew Neville half as well as he thought he did, it _had_ to be tacky. Stupid Movie Night lived on, even though they hadn't actually gotten together to have one in years.

Mustafa missed this. _All_ of this.

"Here you are," Neville at last returned to the room, handing Mustafa his glass.

"Thanks." Mustafa took it from him. Winston strolled in behind Neville, and Mustafa watched as he followed him closely, sniffing his lap after he sat down at the opposite end of the couch.

"I have nothing more for you, why are you looking at me like that?" Neville gave the dog a scratch behind the ear. "You've already gotten loads of treats tonight, take it easy."

"I see he's just as much of a mooch as he was before."

" _Oh_ yeah. Actually, he might have gotten worse, if that's possible." Winston jumped up on the couch and settled himself as best as he could between Mustafa and Neville, the latter going right back to patting him on the head. "He's my boy, though. Wouldn't trade him for the world."

And then, without warning, it was quiet again.

The room that had just a moment ago been filled with their voices was now filled only with the sound of the rain. Mustafa licked his lips, and he stared at Neville, whose gaze was trained on Winston. When he looked to Mustafa, their eyes met, and Mustafa gave him an awkward smile (which was probably more like a grimace) before turning his attention to the paused movie on the screen. His nerves were beginning to make a comeback, just in time for he and Neville to have the first face-to-face conversation they'd had in a long time. He cursed his luck and, once again, his past self for not properly thinking through his plan for getting back in touch with Neville — he'd gotten as far as "call him and hope for the best" and left it at that.

Neville was the one that invited him over. He wouldn't have done that if there wasn't even a tiny part of him that wanted to see him, to _talk_ to him. Even so, Mustafa was still hesitant, worried that he might slip up and say something that would do the opposite of saving their relationship. But he needed to take a chance. He'd told himself when he was standing on the porch that it was far too late to back out, and it was _especially_ too late now that he was sitting on Neville's damn couch. Taking a slow sip of his water, Mustafa cleared his throat, and he made the first move. "Uh... So, things have been good with you?"

No sooner had the words left his mouth did Mustafa realize he'd asked him almost the exact same question on the phone earlier. However, Neville didn't seem to notice (or maybe he just didn't care). "They have." His hand was on Winston's back now, fingers slowly trailing over his fur. "Busy, but good."

"Weren't you wrestling on that cruise awhile ago?" At Neville's nod, "Damn, that must've been cool."

"It was... something, I'll say that much. Never thought I'd see myself wrestling in the middle of the ocean."

"Isn't there, like, no phone service on cruise ships, though? How did you even survive?"

"All the questions you could ask me about that trip, and you ask me about the wi-fi? I don't live entirely on social media like you do."

"Yeah, yeah..." Mustafa was tempted to take out his phone and begin scrolling through Twitter just to mess with Neville, but he decided against it. That would come later, once he was sure about where their relationship was at. "Either way, I'm really glad you've been able to find so much success."

Neville snorted. "Me too. And how about yourself? What've you been up to?"

"Things are..." Mustafa pursed his lips as he tried to come up with the right words. "They're okay. A little slow, but definitely not bad."

"Is that the polite version of 'I've been almost exclusively in dark matches for the last month'?"

He grinned sheepishly. "So, you know about that..."

"I haven't actually sat down and watched WWE programming in full in ages, but I still try to watch your stuff whenever I can. Once you stopped showing up, I kinda figured you were— ah, how do you put it? 'Stealing the show before the show'?"

"Hey, don't use my words against me like that!"

"Don't use them all the time, then! Seriously, you post the same thing after every dark match. Usually with a shirtless pic attached."

"Ooh, so you know about _those_ , too?" Mustafa waggled his eyebrows. "You like 'em?"

Neville gave no response to this, though the hint of pink on his cheeks told Mustafa everything he needed to know. _Cute_.

Putting his glass down on the coffee table, Mustafa decided to follow Neville's example, and he also started to stroke Winston's back, the dog himself already sleeping. Mustafa had never known an animal that fell asleep so quickly until he met Winston. He nodded towards the TV. "I see you're watching a movie."

Neville looked to the screen. "Oh, yeah, that's right..." Had he forgotten all about it?

"Is it dumb?"

"Absolutely. You know I never watch anything good by choice."

"I knew it. So, what, is it a horror film?"

"It is, and it is _atrocious_ , even by my standards. Sooner or later I'm gonna come across one that's actually decent, and I'm not gonna know how to handle it."

Mustafa chuckled. "There's no shortage of bad horror films, so I'd say your odds of finding a good one are pretty slim."

"Thankfully. It's, um..." Neville stopped suddenly, and Mustafa's brows furrowed.

"What?"

"It's... nothing, don't worry about it."

A statement sure to make a worrier like Mustafa worry every time he heard it. "Are you sure? You can tell me."

"Eh, you'll just laugh..."

"I will not." Mustafa's tone was gentle, yet firm. "I promise."

Neville blinked at him, then back at the screen. Mustafa couldn't even begin to imagine what it was that he was so hesitant to tell him. Of course, if Neville insisted that he didn't want to talk about it, then Mustafa would back off, but... Still, he didn't want Neville to think that he couldn't trust him not to make fun of him. Not if he wanted them to be back together for good.

Fortunately, Mustafa's prying seemed to be enought convince Neville. A moment later, they locked eyes again, and Neville quietly admitted, "Well... These movies just aren't the same when you're watching them alone. Sometimes I miss having someone to make fun of them with."

Oh. Mustafa's lips parted, his hand coming to a halt on Winston's back. This sudden stoppage caused Neville's hand to bump into his — ever so slightly, their fingers were touching. He expected Neville to flinch back, but he didn't, and his gaze was just as steady as it had been before. Mustafa couldn't bring himself to look away. Was this... an admission that he wanted he two of them to get back together...? Was that the sign that Mustafa had been looking for? He swallowed. "Um... Neville—"

**BANG!**

A sudden crash of thunder startled all three of them. The lights flickered, and a second later they went out, plunging the room into complete darkness. The loud noise prompted the now-wide awake Winston to leap off of the couch and bolt out into the hallway. "Winston, no!" Mustafa called after him.

"Christ, not again..." Neville griped. "Now is _not_ the time for this..."

"No kidding..." Mother Nature sure had interesting timing.

The flashlight from Neville's phone was then turned on. Neville squinted at the screen. "Damn thing's gonna die if I keep the light on all night..." He muttered. He then stood. "I'll be right back, gotta go grab some candles."

"Can you check on Winston?" Mustafa pleaded to Neville's silhouette, which was already moving out of the room. "Make sure he's okay?"

"He's probably just in the kitchen — that's his hub whenever the power goes out." The little bit of light that had been in the living room faded away as Neville went down the hallway. "Yep, he's here. Hidin' out behind the island."

Mustafa breathed a sigh of relief. Winston was still scared, but at least he wasn't hurt. That was what mattered. "Good. You think he'll come back in with us?"

"Probably not." Neville's voice was fainter now — he must have gone into another room, possibly his bedroom. Mustafa was disappointed to hear this, but he had to have faith that Neville was wrong. He was sure Winston would rejoin them at some point before Mustafa needed to leave (he couldn't leave without properly saying goodbye, after all).

It was only when Neville re-entered the room holding two scented candles and a box of matches that Mustafa remembered the significance of those items.

The candles. How could he have forgotten about the damn _candles_? He watched as Neville placed them down on the coffee table and went about lighting them, his brows furrowed as he moved the match from one wick to the next. That look of (almost unnecessary) concentration was such a familiar sight to Mustafa, one that he'd grown to like quite a bit during their time together, but also one that he had not seen for far too long. Now that he was looking at it again, he was transported to a different time, back when he'd first been invited to Neville's house. It very likely wasn't the same candles, but some of very similar scents and colors had been lit when he'd arrived. He teased Neville at first — he never thought he was a Mood Lighting kind of guy — but it turned out that he was just into candles. There was at least one in most of the rooms in the house. They had been a trademark of sorts for Neville.

Mustafa had lost sight of that fact after their separation. And now, on this gloomy, rainy night, he was once again being reminded of something that he'd missed terribly.

"There..." Neville's voice interrupted Mustafa's reminiscing, and he sat back down on the couch — notably closer than he had before, Mustafa realized. "That should be good enough."

Mustafa stared at the small, dancing flames. "Y...Yeah, it's fine," he replied.

"Something bothering you?" Shit. Mustafa had made his mood just a little too obvious.

"No, not really," he fibbed.

"Are you sure?" Then, "Am I... Am I sitting too close to you, or...?"

"No!" Mustafa quickly assured. "No, that's not it. It's..." He considered lying again, but after pushing Neville into talking a few moments ago he felt he had no right to keep any secrets from him — not to mention that Neville might get the wrong idea again. It was best to tell the truth. "These candles remind me a lot of the times we used to hang out. You had them lit all the time."

Neville followed his gaze, also becoming entranced by the fire. "Ah... Yes, that's right. The cinnamon one was your favorite, wasn't it?"

"It was."

"I wish I still had one, but it burnt out a long time ago. I didn't think to buy another one, to be honest."

Because Neville associated that scent with him. That _had_ to be the reason. Neville had no reason to get a candle of someone's favorite scent if that "someone" wasn't even around to appreciate it. "I..."

"Hmm?"

"I..." Mustafa swallowed. "I miss you. A lot."

Neville didn't say anything to that. Mustafa continued, "I miss seeing you backstage, and talking to you regularly, and watching you wrestle, and just... being with you. Those nights we spent together were so _fun_ , and I looked forward to them. I loved watching dumbass movies with you, and eating _way_ too many sweets, and... everything else. But all of it— it just _stopped_ . Out of nowhere. And I really, _really_ wish that it didn't.

"I... I know you and I are both busy these days in our own ways. And I know that maintaining a relationship with our packed schedules is gonna be tough. But... I'm willing to give it a try, if you are. You obviously don't have to do anything you don't want to do, and I'm more than okay with you deciding that this isn't something that you're interested in, but I wanted to at the very least let you know how I feel."

Satisfied with his rambling, Mustafa took a deep breath, leaning back into the couch. He folded his hands in his lap and waited anxiously for Neville to reply — if he ever did. He was still staring at the candles, his expression unreadable. Maybe Mustafa's sudden confession was a lot to take in at once. Especially since it came out of seemingly nowhere, and was prompted by _candles_ of all things. _Is he... okay?_

But then, faintly, Neville at last said something. "...I'm the one that fucked everything up."

"What...?"

"I'm the one that stopped texting you. I should've done more to keep in touch with you."

"But it's not like _I_ ever tried to start a conversation," Mustafa argued. "I stopped, too. I'm just as responsible for what happened. You can't only blame yourself."

"I know, but..." Neville chewed his lower lip. "But I care about you. I _never_ stopped caring about you, not even when I was sorting out my contract. And I should've done a better job at showing it. Instead, I just..." He shrugged. "I just let our relationship die."

Mustafa debated it for a moment, but ultimately he decided to take a chance, and he reached over and took hold of Neville's hand. For the second time that evening, Neville did not shy away from the contact. "It doesn't have to stay dead if you don't want it to. We can... try again."

"I want to," Neville admitted. "But like you said, it's not going to be easy. We're always traveling, and we're on completely different work schedules, and..."

"We can make it work," Mustafa cut him off. "It'll take some getting used to, but I think we can do it."

"But what if everything happens all over again? What if... What if something comes up and we just stop talking again?"

"Do you want that to happen?"

"No, absolutely not."

"Then let's try our hardest not to _let_ it happen. We don't have to text every single day or anything, but if we both try to send each other something every now and again, things could work out just fine."

Neville swallowed. "...You're really serious about this?"

"I am," Mustafa said, clearly. "I wasn't lying before when I said that I missed you, and everything that came along _with_ you. I wanna give us one more chance, see where things go. And if _you_ want to, then... I say we go for it. What do we got to lose?"

Neville, whose eyes had been glued to the flames, turned his head to meet Mustafa's gaze. The soft, orange glow from the candles illuminated his face. The light gave him a haunting, mesmerizing appearance. One that Mustafa couldn't look away from even if he'd wanted to.

He looked... amazing.

Mustafa couldn't help himself from slowly leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips.

It was soft at first. Mustafa wanted to provide Neville with ample time to pull away. It wasn't until he felt Neville gently reciprocating the kiss that he deepened it, a hand moving up to cup Neville's cheek. Mustafa's lips parted, and Neville's tongue slid into his mouth. The intimacy was almost dizzying. This was what he'd been waiting for. After all that debating about whether or not to make that phone call, this was what he'd wanted. What he'd _missed_ so badly.

It had been over two years since their last kiss. Somehow, this one was the best of all.

If only Winston hadn't decided that _that_ was when he'd choose to return to the living room.

All the two of them heard was another rumble of thunder and the sound of nails frantically clicking on the floor before the dog leapt onto the couch, where Neville had been sitting earlier. "Oh my God—" Neville gasped, putting a hand on his chest. "What the _hell_ , Winston?!"

Surprised as he was, Mustafa couldn't help but laugh. "Hey, he came back! That's good, right?"

"Would've been good any other time..." Neville moped, but Mustafa putting an arm around his shoulders prompted him to smile, and a moment later he moved in for a second kiss. Just as good as the first one.

"...Hey," Neville breathed out against his lips. Between kisses, he continued, "Did you... ever end up getting a motel room...?"

Mustafa froze, eyes wide. In the excitement of being back together with Neville, he'd forgotten about the _other_ date he'd be having that evening — the one with the backseat of his rental. "Uh..." He grinned sheepishly. "No, I did not."

Neville smirked. Mustafa's heart rate ticked up _just_ a bit. "Would you like to stay with me tonight? We still have some... catching up to do, you know."

Mustafa's expression mirrored his. Suddenly, his sleeping in the backseat seemed a hell of a lot less likely. "You're right..."

"Is that a 'yes', then?"

"It is. _But_ , I left my bags in the trunk. With my pajamas in them."

This statement caused Neville to chuckle, and he kissed Mustafa again, tugging on his lower lip with his teeth when he pulled back. "Hmm, Mustafa..."

"What?"

"I wasn't anticipating either one of us sleeping with clothes on tonight..."

**Author's Note:**

> OH and another thing: i dont think i'll ever get tired of writing abt these two dumbasses. like Ever


End file.
